Two Roads Diverged
by running-still85
Summary: What were AL'S THOUGHTS during "Mirror Image?" Sam/Al pre-slash
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note**: There's no indication of slash yet but there will be later in the series so this is your "Enter At Your Own Risk" sign. If this is your cup of tea please feel free to enter.

**Title**: Two Roads Diverged. This story is the first out of ? in the series _Reflections and Refractions_

**Author:**Dylan Curry

**Spoilers:**Mirror Image

**Disclaimer:** The old song and dance: QL belongs to Donald Bellisario, NBC and MCA/ Universal

**Rating:**This story is part of a series. For now, it's rated G.

**Dedication:**J.D. Rush whose fanfic is like cannoli :0).

**Summary:**What were AL'S THOUGHTS during "Mirror Image?"

Al

"Sam, oh Sam," the words floated in the air, released from my lips as I felt the world spinning out of control.

Back in 2000, I stood trapped in the white inner room, which now felt more like a holding cell, of the Imaging Chamber. Barred from having contact with Sam, I reeled, fighting a battle with an unseen foe. No matter what Gushie and I tried, I was not able to project my image since I had last seen him minutes, moments, it felt like forever ago. I had left Sam at that cookie bar with the promise that I would return. I had left in a desperate attempt to find answers to these maddening questions but when I got back I was greeted by none. I had solemnly told him that I would get him out of this situation. His faith in me ever sure, his trust solid, he knew that I would return. I swore up and down, frustrated at not being able to be with him at that moment. I could feel my emotions boiling up, escalating until I felt like I would topple over in an exasperated heap.

Just what kind of game was Big Al playing at anyways? Sam had begged me to believe him. I always have and I always will. Still, this whole leap had me unhinged. I could accept the theories that Sam came up with even if I didn't wholeheartedly agree with them because I knew him. If there was one guy that I could place my money on every time it would be Sam. But some loony bartender had even Sam unwired.

The people that Sam described in that bar, Al's Place. For one, the name of the bar in itself was screwy. Al, Jimmy, Frank, Ziggy, Gushie, Stawpah, except they weren't. Stawpah, why would he make an appearance? Sam wouldn't know about him, I never told him until moments ago. I wondered if somebody was trying to play with my head. Well I had news for them, I wouldn't let them. They weren't going to mess around with Sam's head either not if I had a say in the matter. Still, the question loomed. Who or what were those people? Pretenders, fakes, illusions? I didn't know, I didn't have any definite answers, I just knew that I had to get Sam out. This one was way out in left field. This whole leap was giving me the heebie-jeeebies.

Trapped back in the Imaging Chamber I could observe what Sam was experiencing but I couldn't get through to him. It was like watching a horror movie except I had so much at stake. What I saw only added fuel to my already charged and on edge self. Searching for answers Sam asked the bartender if he, himself, were really the one in charge of the leaps. Sam was reverent towards Big Al and would obediently believe the lines that he was being fed.

Big Al's answers always evasive, his reply was an analogy that only added to the mystery. "_Priests can also take sabbaticals, especially before embarking on a difficult new assignment._"

Difficult new assignment? I did not like where this conversation was heading. I saw the tears streaming from Sam's eyes. My gut clinched, my temperature rising. It was my instinctive reflex to be there for Sam at these times. Yet, for whatever reason, I was trapped. Feeling like everything was out of my control, I did something that I hadn't done for a long while, since I thought that Sam had been shot. I sank down to my knees, begging, pleading whatever forces were out there to let me be at his side, to even let me take his place. I closed my eyes, hoping for this to be a bad dream or a sick joke, maybe even a temporary glitch in Ziggy's system.

"_Where would you like to go_?" the Bartender held out an open invitation to Sam.

Oh Sam, you've done so much, whatever you want I'll be there for you. Up until my final breath I'll be there.

Sweet Sam, his voice coming through like a song, replied with one little word that meant the world, "_Home_." Then his voice got somber and the pain inflected in its tone was almost too much for me to bear, "_I would like to go home_."

I knew all the symptoms. Worn out. Tired. Fatigued. It was way past time.

"_I'd like to go home but I can't can I?"_ was Sam's self-searching answer.

After all this time maybe Sam couldn't switch it off. He had been on adrenaline for so long. The sudden realization that there was an off button, it could throw him out of whack. After a marathon runner crosses the finish line they don't just stop. They couldn't just stop or else the momentum was enough to send them spiraling. Or a car, after a long road trip, the engine still gives off a hum as it tries to settle. Or me, when I came back from 'Nam. Upon first returning, I was still on hyper alert, my senses ever vigilant. _Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free (_1), I recited. I vowed without a second thought, I would help Sam to ease into life back home, to make that transition, living life, facing each brand new day, was a great adventure.

"_I've got a wrong to put right for Al_," Sam unselfishly said.

_Oh Sam. No, please don't. Not for me Sam_, the words screaming inside of my head. I knew what he was alluding to. There was a time when I had asked him to save me from one of, if not, the biggest heartache that I had experienced up until that point. During that leap, I had felt the pain so keenly, so brand new, like a scar being ripped open that I wasn't thinking straight. I was only thinking of that moment, that fresh hurt. I was in the middle of it, feeling as if it was just happening. At that time I didn't think of the repercussions, what it could mean if Beth did wait for me. It could mean that I never met Sam, never formed the strongest or most meaningful bond that I ever had. It could mean that I never was part of the Project. I'd never get to see a dream realized or get to be a part of changing so many people's lives. Along with seeing the people's lives change for the better, Sam and the Project had made me stronger, had saved me. Had given me something to believe in.

I collapsed, the strength running out of me. All I could see was the white walls, white floor. It suited me: hollow and void. I wanted to stay right there, just like that. A living memorial.

Then I felt it pulling for me, tearing at me. With that jolt I realized that this was not the way to go. This was not what Sam would want and it certainly wasn't the Al Calavicci way. I had been a fighter all my life and that's the way I would go, up against greater powers than I've ever been. This was the way to survive, a way that I was all too familiar with. After I felt like my feet had finally touched the ground, I looked around at my surroundings, the familiar smell of alcohol and smoke filled the air. The bar a relic in itself, musty and well worn.

"_What the hell is going on here_?" I demanded to know. My eyes were intent on their target. The bartender didn't even look up, continuing to shine the glasses. I walked into the bar, in a blinding rage. As the soulful and enchanting voice of Lady Ella floated into the room, I could feel my beating heart slow down to the tempo of the music.

_It's very clear  
Our love is here to stay;  
Not for a year  
But ever and a day._

The radio and the telephone  
And the movies that we know  
May just be passing fancies,  
And in time may go !

But, oh my dear,  
Our love is here to stay.  
Together we're  
Going a long, long way

In time the Rockies may crumble,

_Gibraltar__may tumble,  
There're only made of clay,  
But our love is here to stay__. 2_

Now, I felt a haunting pain emerging from my depths that washed over me. I had gone through a torrent of emotions in the last… How long had it been since Sam had first stepped into this bar? Entranced and delirious, I found myself too weary to stand. While I had the last vestige of strength in me, I took a seat at the bar.

"Beautiful song isn't it?" Big Al addressed me as he laid a glass on the counter. "One of the greatest duos in my book. Ira wrote the lyrics for the song after his brother George died," Big Al continued as for the first time he returned my gaze. "A living testament."

After a few moments of silence, Big Al started again. "_What'll it be Al?_" he deliberately asked. I didn't answer him; I had learned that in this type of situation when confronted with the captor it was best not to say anything. I refused to let him take control of the situation.

"You're a tough egg to figure out Albert Calavicci," he stated as he took a glass in his hands and stared at it as if he were measuring it up. He put the glass down on the counter between us. What was it with these damn glasses that held his fascination?

"Say that you're a betting man Al," he said at last, breaking the silence. Offering the scenario he picked up a different glass. "You know the players, you know the score," he confided taking the dishrag from off his shoulder. As he took the dishrag and wiped the smudges away from the glass, he spoke, "You'd bet on a sure thing right? Stack the books so that it would all work out in the end."

For a moment the room was silent. I refused to give him the satisfaction of answering him. Then I heard a click from the jukebox as a haunting melody started to play.

_Georgia, Georgia  
The whole day through (the whole day through)  
Just an old sweet song  
Keeps Georgia on my mind (Georgia on my mind) (3)_

_Beth_. My mind went back to the last time I had seen her. How I had longed to hold her, feel her rhythm, her tempo, her breath against my skin. Caress her smooth skin against mine. Reassure her that she's always been loved. All of those wishes hadn't been possible. At first I wasn't even going to go in there, it would be too painful. Being so close to her, my heart and senses filled with only her and yet not even be able to touch her went right to me. After all was said and done, I was thankful to be able to see her standing there, right in front of me. Someone that knew me better than I knew myself had convinced me to live that moment.

_Sam_. I was way beyond the edge of too far gone. **"**_**Stop!**_**" **I demanded. Yearning for a past love and breaking apart in two. My mind too incoherent for words I let out a guttural sound as I took a glass and hurled it at the jukebox, satisfied as I heard it crash into a dozen little pieces. I was about to throw another when Big Al's hand caught my arm.

"I think there's something you should see," he gestured towards the middle of the bar. There, suddenly, was a projected image, dark for lack of light. My first love, pure, unbridled, something you never forget, standing in the room, swaying her hips in time with the music. I sat mesmerized, just watching her. I could tell he was there too before he gave off any indication. After all this time, I had learned to read his thoughts, his intentions even before he could.

"_Beth,_" his earnest voice called out breaking my trance. "_I'm not gonna harm you, I'm here to help you_," he assured her. Strong, unselfish, heroic. Beyond bounds.

"_You're a friend of Al's?_," she inquired of him.

"Oh honey, the best," I answered although I knew she can't hear me.

_I said a Georgia, Georgia  
A song of you (a song of you)  
Comes as sweet and clear as moonlight through the pines  
Other arms reach out to me  
Other eyes smile tenderly  
Still in the peaceful dreams I see  
The road leads back to you (3)_

"_I'm going to tell you a story Beth_. _A story with a happy ending. But instead of starting with once upon a time let's start with a happy ending. Al's alive and he's coming home,"_ Sam told her.

"What about you Sam?" After a moment's reflection, I continued, "What would our life be like without…" I thought out loud.

"Two roads diverged," Big Al answered. "I just wonder, I wonder if this is what you would want," his words hit my ears. He looked down at the counter, taking the cloth to wipe away any spillage.

What did _I_want? The words went right to me. I knew what was happening but I didn't even know what I wanted. Why did it even matter? Sam the eternal Boy Scout was once again doing what he thought was right and I once again was along for the ride, as his co-pilot. Except so far for this one I had to sit the adventure out and it was driving me insane. Then again, it wasn't a stranger's life we were talking about here, it was my life.

I could feel his eyes sizing me up before he continued, "This quarter hasn't been played out yet, the ball is in your court," Big Al informed me. "There's one thing. Remember no matter what you choose, you're only one player. My question is '_What'll it be Al_?'"

1. The New Colossus, Emma Lazarus

2. Love is Here to Stay, George and Ira Gershwin

3. Georgia on My Mind, Ray Charles


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Bittersweet Spark. This story is the second out of ? in the series Reflections and Refractions

**Disclaimer:** QL belongs to Donald Bellisario, NBC and MCA/ Universal.

**Summary:** Sam meets Al at the worst part in his life and has a message for him.

**Warnings: **This story is part of a series. For now, it's rated PG-13 for violence.

**Dedication: **This whole series is going to be dedicated to J.D. Rush in part for being such an awesome Beta.

**Author's Note**: Part of this story is inspired by the M*A*S*H episode "Mulcahy's War"

Sam

As I take in the environment, I notice that I'm in a holding cell. I smell the fowl stench of decay and feel straw digging against my raw skin. I look down at myself and realize that I'm in green fatigues. "Oh, boy." It doesn't take me too long to fit the pieces together and figure that I am a POW.

Talk about the leaps getting harder.

I see one of the prisoners of war that is sharing my holding cell talking with a Vietnamese guard. In the POW's hand is a faded picture. "My girl, Sarah," he tells the guard. The guard then pulls out a photo of his little girl, "An" he says, pointing to the picture. "Me, Andrew, Drew," the POW says to the Vietnamese guard, gesturing to himself. "Me, Bao," the guard says back.

In that simple exchange of words a bond is formed. Over the next day, I notice that Bao shows concern for Drew, giving him some of his own meager meal.

It's unbearable in here, cramped and putrid smelling. I have an all-encompassing hunger for food but when the guards present us with our rations it is infested with maggots. There is a deafening silence that pervades the air. Besides this exchange of words between Bao and Drew no one has said a word. There are a couple of other holding cells but the guards threaten us to keep quiet.

When times are crazy, when my world is spinning out of control, I've come to count on Al's appearance. Now the lack thereof is the only thing that's keeping me sane. I thank God Al doesn't have to experience this horror again. I've only been here a day compared to Al's five years. I don't know how he did it.

To keep a distance, a distraction from the cold, hard reality of where I am I dream myself away. During this time, I close my eyes and think of Al. His self-sacrifice, allowing me to save my brother even if that meant having to be locked up like an animal for five years. I wonder how he kept his sanity. I remember that he said to me that he was free, through his mind. I decide to concentrate on him and the victory that I had just attained for him. I concentrate on how happy he must be now, finally in the arms of his love. Home at last.

I see the guards standing up to attention. A Vietnamese soldier has entered into the vacinity, loudly barking orders. The guards take us out of our holding cells, making sure that they have a vigilant eye on us and that our hands are tied, unable to move. I look around wondering who my fellow prisoners could be. Some look like zombies, barely alive. There's one that stands out from the others. He looks just as tired and haggard as the rest but in his eyes I see a glint, a spark for life which nothing can break. Before I can get a better look the Vietnamese soldier's voice grabs my attention.

He parades around the circle, slapping or punching all of us. I can see Bao standing in front of Drew trying to turn the soldier's attention to the other prisoners. As the Vietnamese soldier stops in front of Drew, I hear Bao's voice trying to reason with the unidentified Vietnamese soldier but it's useless- the Vietnamese soldier looks crazed. Bao's pleads only make the crazed soldier even more angry. The soldier takes Drew into the middle of the circle that the guards have us standing around and starts to beat him. I close my eyes, not wanting to see the horror before me. I hear the haunting yells of pain from Drew. After some time, moments that make all of us cringe, the guards put us back in our holding cell. The soldier and the other guards except for Bao go outside and I can hear laughter and snickering coming from outside.

I try to get Drew to talk to me but he can barely breathe. From my medical background, I can tell that he needs intubation. After my vain attempts to reach for a pen at the desk that is currently left unattended, I try to get any of the other prisoners to reach out but they all seem too afraid of the guards returning and the consequential aftermath. Realizing what I'm trying to do the one prisoner that still has that spark in his eyes takes the pen from the desk and throws it my way. I get a better look at the other POW. The dark brown eyes, the black curls, the compact body. "Al, Al, is that you?" I ask.

"Of course it's me," he replies. "Boy kid, they must have really done a number you too, huh?"

I feel like crying but instead I concentrate on the task in front of me. I successfully place the tube into Drew's trachea and I can hear him breathing. When Bao comes near I tell him, "MASH." If Drew doesn't get to a MASH soon, then the intubation won't be worth anything. Everything hangs on how Bao will answer.

"Okay," I hear Bao say. Bao goes over to Drew's slumped form and struggles to haul him to the jeep.

"How'd you learn to do that?" Al asks with an intonation to his voice that is filled with pride.

I shrug, years and years of medical school I feel like saying. I don't even know if the body that I'm inhabiting was a doctor. So I tell him what next comes to mind, "Saw it on a TV show."

I can feel that I'm about to leap soon, so from the bottom of my heart I tell Al, "Thank you." After a moment I continue, "And Al?"

"Yeah, kid?" comes the reply.

I can feel the force gripping me forward. I don't want to leave, I want to stay here with him, to see him through this like he's done for me so many times I couldn't count.

"Believe," I manage to say before I leap.

Al 

I couldn't believe my own eyes, what was happening to me? Were those bastards finally getting inside my head? Was I finally losing it? I wouldn't let that happen. I swear I saw a blue electrifying light surround him. Then he said that one word, simple, elegant and yet so powerful before he vanished. In his place was a new man, someone different than the one that was in front of me seconds earlier. It was something about the eyes, definitely the eyes. If he had gotten out of this forsaken place, I had to believe that I would.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **What'll it Be? This story is third out of in the series Reflections and Refractions

**Disclaimer:** You've got to keep The Powers That Be happy: QL belongs to Donald Bellisario, NBC and MCA/ Universal

**Summary:** The Bartender lets Al makes a decision on a pivotal day

**Warnings:** This story is part of a series. For now, it's rated G.

**Dedication:** J.D. Rush.

"This quarter hasn't been played out yet, the ball is in your court," Big Al informed me. "There's one thing. Remember no matter what you choose, you're only one player. My question is 'What'll it be Al?'"

As he asked that question, I could feel the unnamed force gently holding me. Even though I didn't have a lot of experience with leaping, each time was different. This time it cradled me as it carried me away.

When I landed I felt soft green grass under my feet. The birds were singing their songs, full of life and hope. It was a warm day and a gentle breeze blew, the leaves on the trees softly swayed. The fresh and clean smell of laundry was wafting through the air. At my side was an oak with a yellow ribbon tied around its trunk. Ahead of me I saw clothes being gently tossled, drying on a line. Behind the drying towels I heard a woman's voice joining the birds in a chorus. The realization and the familiarity hit me, this _was_ our house. I looked at myself. I was in my Navy uniform, a duffel bag slung over my shoulder.

I was about to get closer when I saw a tall, sun kissed, polo jock strolling up to the yard. When I realized who this nozzle was, I wanted to walk right up to him and sock him one right in the kisser. Who the hell did he think he was, making moves at another man's wife when he was off fighting a war? If I were to walk up to her now I knew that I would be welcomed back. I would take her in my arms. Our lips would come together in ecstasy.

But something stopped me in my tracks. _Sam_. Or at least the thought of Sam. At the cusp of this crucial moment I wondered to myself how I wanted my story to play out. Did I want to go back to Beth, her warm and sweet embrace meeting mine? You bet I did! At the same time, what would that mean for everything that happened afterwards? What would that mean for all of those lives that we changed? What would that mean for Sam? Side by side we had affected so many lives but also each other's. Would he have survived without me? Would I have survived without him? Still I wanted to run to Beth, engulf her in my arms but there was that one part of me that kept me where I was.

Beth was about to place a towel on the line, her delicate hands reaching up to squeeze the clothespin when his hand met hers. When her eyes met his I saw love eminating from Dirk's eyes and Beth returned a smile of recognition, accepting and giving, until she withdrew and put up a wall. He took her hand in his and led her inside of the house. I looked through the window, unable to turn my eyes away. In our living room, Dirk was on bended knee, producing a ring from his pocket. Beth shook her head in denial and withdrew her hand. Dirk gently held her to him and she buried her head in his chest. Leading her over to the couch, they sat down, all the while Dirk was holding Beth. A surprising calm swept over me. This older version of myself felt satisfied. This is what I needed to know that Beth would be loved and cherished. I just hoped that the young Al would forgive me. In time he'd understand.

With that comforting thought I was swept away and I found myself once again in Big Al's bar. This time I was confronted with the younger version of myself. How that could happen I didn't know. I just accepted it as part of this whole crazy bar. I apprehensively approached Bingo. How would he greet me? What would he think? How could I explain? Did he even know? My fears were allayed when he turned to me, "I understand. At least I think I understand. We have to take care of him, don't we?" Big Al proudly smiled at the scene before him. Bingo now addressed Big Al, "I'm ready for what lays ahead of me Big Al." With that a blue electric energy surrounded Bingo, sending him back.

"What happens to him, to me?" I inquired. "I could've but I didn't."

"I thought you could answer that," Big Al replied cryptic as ever. That man was really starting to get on my nerves.

I took a deep, calming breath, closed my eyes, as the first new memory formed. When I returned from 'Nam I told the hospital staff that there was no one that I would like notified. I had made a decision and I knew what the future was for Beth and me. Soon, as time passed, she would be with Dirk. After a couple of months of recuperating, I would be soon leaving the hospital and returning to active Naval life when I had a visitor. As she entered the room eminating with beauty, grace and warmth, my breath was taken away from me.

"Bingo," she said quietly, with a resigned smile. It was not the exuberant greeting that I had dreamed about all of those years away from her, when the only thing that had kept me alive was the thought of her. Why should it be? I knew that this was coming and yet I felt the pain hit me, leaving no nerve untouched. She slowly walked over to me, unsure of how to proceed. I patted the place next to me on the bed, gesturing for her to sit and put my arm around her, pulling her close to me. She rested her head on my shoulder and placed the hand that sported a bright gold wedding band, flickering in the dull hospital light, on top of my hand which rested on my knee.

Gathering her strength, she began, "Oh Bingo," she sighed, "I'm so sorry. How can I even ask you to forgive me. After all that you've been through."

I tightened my arm around her, trying to give her even more support. "You have to know that I love you, I always will. It's just that, well, I thought you were…"

At this point, I pulled her into a hug. I felt her muscles collapse, the weight of her body giving out. "Shhh," I whispered into her hair. We let the rest of the evening pass, making amends, finding acceptance and figuring out how to move on from there.

After that, so many memories flooded through, all familiar, like old friends. Not much had changed after that, apparently, except for a sense of peace that I don't remember ever feeling before. There I was, walking through the hallways of NASA. And there, up in the space capsule, circling the earth-almost as beautiful as my dear Beth. My wedding day. Sylvia? Sonia? Something with an "S". Ahhh, and Starbright. Where it all began. That late night. A broken vending machine. A frustrated kick. Not drunken this time-just pissed off. And laughter, echoing through the empty room. A hearty laugh from an amused man, with sparkling hazel eyes and a killer smile. Sam. My Sam.

I still met my Sam!

My amazement must've shown on my face because Big Al just grinned and nodded, then went back to polishing the shot glass in his hand.

"Is Sam in New Mexico? I wouldn't have been so torn with Beth marrying Dirk when Sam leaped in. Things would be, are so different," I reasoned.

"Say a package is in flight for its destination. Just because the sender and the recipient may have met each other on land doesn't change the fact that the package is still in flight does it?" Big Al offered.

"I'm getting fed up with all of these riddles. Just say what you are trying to say," I spew.

A robust laugh was his response. I'm glad one of us thought that this was so amusing.

"I told you what you wanted to know now it's up to the players," he related to me.

I felt the wind knocked from under me. When I opened my eyes I was back in my condo. I wasn't sure if this had all been a dream. When I opened my eyes, I realized that I was in my living room sitting in a plush and comfortable chair.


End file.
